Burial Rites

“And you say that the creatures have been appearing more frequently?” the older Pandaren asked of his companion. The two were walking slowly down a path between low bamboo plants, heading towards the ruins of the Horde base in the Jade Forest.

“Yes Elder,” the other Pandaren replied. “The Sha remnants have been appearing with more regularity as of late, but only in the specific area I mentioned. I fear that there is some element of malice that is causing them to form. I'm quite worried for the safety of the village.”

The older Pandaren chuckled, bringing a hand up to forestall further theorizing, “Now now, let us not jump to conclusions. It could simply be that the battle on this site left a bit of a mark on the lands, and that with time the manifestations will diminish. Rushing to declare that it is this or that may make us overlook important details.”

As the two continued to talk, they reached the end of the path and a clearing beyond. Small stone markers with brightly colored bits of cloth tied to them sat in neat rows in the cleared space. The cloth fluttered in the wind, the memorials to the dead looking peaceful and serene. The older Pandaren paused, looking over the small cemetery.

“And you say that it is in a specific area here? This is where we buried the outsiders who fell in battle against the Horde,” he mused. “Show me the spot.”

The younger of the two Pandaren nodded, moving between the neat rows of markers to one near the end. The stone itself resembled the others, although it had a few scratches on it where Sha creatures had been clawing at it. On the center of the stone was a metal marker taken from the one buried beneath it, some beastly emblem with the inscription '1113^th' engraved on it. The marker itself had a name carved into it. The Pandaren had been able to determine that the fallen woman's name was Beckyann Eastberg based on dog-tags she had within her armor.

“Ah, I remember this one,” the elder said sadly. “The poor woman's arm and leg had been torn off when one of their machines crashed, her other arm broken. I pray that she did not suffer long.”

The younger Pandaren nodded and then turned to his elder, concern on his face, “What if a Sha creature is inhabiting the corpse? We've seen such before. That would explain the manifestations.”

The elder thought the question over, stroking his beard in thought. Finally he nodded, looking sad. “Yes, such is possible and we have seen it happen in this conflict that the outsiders brought amongst us. We should at least check, so that the poor woman is resting in peace.”

With a nod, the younger Pandaren set down the bundle he had been carrying, unrolling the fabric around several tools including a shovel and pick. “I agree, it is for the best I think.”

He rose, shovel in hand, and drove it into the soil to take the first load of dirt off the grave.

*****************************************

Minutes later the shovel hit metal, the sound of it causing the younger Pandaren to pull his tool back. He leaned forward, brushing dirt from the hole he'd dug, revealing purple plate armor that was covering a forearm. The Pandaren carefully brushed more soil away, revealing a tan wrist and hand with black fingernail polish.

He looked over at the elder, relief etched into his features, “Her hands are not Sha claws. The corpse is still pure.”

The elder frowned, leaning closer, “And yet...I know little of these outsiders, but look at the coloration of the flesh. Their living look as such, sun-kissed and warm. And her nails...the flesh of the dead rots and decays typically. The claws of our people appear longer, as if they had grown, yet hers are neat and trim despite being in the soil for such a long time.”

The younger Pandaren looked at the arm with wide eyes, “You are right elder! What could this mean?”

He picked his shovel up again, prodding the soil around the exposed limb, as if the dirt itself would give rise to an answer. Within the soil a small creature squirmed, some type of bloated worm that one would associate with corpses. The Pandaren thought nothing of it, pushing the shovel deeper into the soil.

With a sudden motion, the arm of the 'corpse' reached out and grabbed the lower portion of the shovel's handle!

With a gasp of shock both Pandaren reeled back, the younger still maintaining his grip on his shovel. He pulled, his frightened mind frantic to retrieve his tool from the grip of the corpse. The arm holding it displayed incredible strength, maintaining the grip and pulling. The sudden resistance caused the Pandaren to tumble backwards.

As he fell, his weight put leverage on the shovel's handle, pulling it with a mighty jerk. The soil around the limb heaved, the dirt piling up in a mound and falling away. Both Pandaren looked on in horror as the corpse of a blonde haired woman rose from the hole, dirt falling away from her and caked to her armor. The purple metal was rent in several places, particularly along her left arm and leg. Both limbs displayed a black gash with whitened flesh along the edges, but all four limbs seemed attached.

As the two Pandaren looked on with terror in their eyes, the blonde haired woman took a step out of her grave, steadying herself on the headstone that had marked her resting place. Her eyes opened, baleful blue scourgelight studying the hapless creatures on the ground before her. Black lips parted and she attempted to speak, the dirt in her mouth preventing sounds from coming out.

Although both Pandaren were only vaguely familiar with the language of the outsiders, it was clear that the walking-corpse was not saying very nice things. They scrambled to their feet, eyes still wide as the blonde spit dirt out of her mouth. Angrily she snatched up the marker on her tombstone, the rank badge that also served as a communication device to keep in touch with her legion.

She rolled her eyes, chanting something and dark energies formed around her lips. She spat out a few words which were translated by the temporary spell.

“Bath. Now. And do not TOUCH me. Ever.”

Wide-eyed, the Pandaren scrambled away from the woman, heading back towards their village to do as she'd ordered. Clearly she was not Sha-touched, but whatever she WAS they wanted no part of it.

For her part, Beckyann Eastberg reached up to brush more dirt from her flesh, shaking out her hair and leaving the grave soil behind her. Her clothing was ruined, her armor torn to shreds, and she had no idea where her runeblade was. She was going to have to craft a new one from whatever weapons the primitive fools in the village ahead had. The fact that they did not even know what her kind was did not do much to convince her that they had any intelligence within them. In fact, at that moment, she was not sure if she hated a living creature more than the foolish fur-covered twits that fled before her as she stalked towards the town.

Behind her, a small manifestation of her hatred formed, tendrils reaching out to lash at her back. Before they struck, she whirled, necromancy on her lips. The creature was struck with a howling blast of freezing air, shards of ice tearing it to shreds in a moment. A thing of hatred that fed on negative energies snuffed out by one of its own kind.

“I cannot STAND this place,” Beckyann Eastberg murmured. “I can see this is going to be a long campaign.”

With that, she shook her head, proceeding towards the town where the natives had better damn well be drawing her a bath so she could clean her corpse and armor. It would be steaming hot if they knew what was good for them.